womanhood as weaponry, language as force, and the difference between being dangerous and being destructive.

this post really ignited a sense of alignment in me. or confirmation. idk what word i’m actually looking for. but yeah. the name of this blog being ‘the bullet chamber’ and the theme/idea of it being “a girl is a gun” pretty much speaks for itself. i do believe that a girl is a gun that has a knife attached to it, even. this bitch (me) specifically has one of the sharpest blades known to mankind. my mouth is a weapon. my native tongue is lethal. so, this post absolutely makes me feel seen.

queen of swords is what comes to mind.

my grandpa would always tell me “it’s not what you say, it’s how you say it.” which used to irritate me because my philosophy then was basically the truth is the truth regardless of it’s delivery. if what i said was accurate, why should i have to soften it just to make it easier for the next person’s ego? the same ego that triggered the sentiments in the first place? lol. no thx. i actually love to be given reason to engage my shadow and humble anyone who needs it, if need be.

but then it started to click for me that maybe he wasn’t asking me to dull the blade. maybe he was teaching me how to hold it. inherently, a blade isn’t dangerous merely because it exists. technique matters. placement matters. intention matters. a dull knife swung wildly is less formidable than a sharp one held by somebody who knows exactly where to cut.

there is a difference between having a sharp tongue and having command of one. anybody can say something cruel. anybody can shoot from the hip. precision is knowing exactly what you could say and deciding whether the moment actually calls for it.

a weapon with no discipline is just a liability. i have never wanted to be harmless. i simply want to be precise.

i designed this website and made this blog as a safe space to say whatever the fuck i want, however the fuck i want, because i’m not forcing anyone to listen (or read, in this case) anyhow. for what it’s worth, it’s a me thing. as you can see, i’ve barely posted here though. i’ve deliberately sat on many controversial takes for going on a year now. i could honestly make the post at hand about delivery, or i could make it about what it does to the body when we suppress truth. although all of those truths exist at once, i want to hone in on one specific contradiction that ignites this sense of defensiveness (or danger) in me… why are women expected to aspire to harmlessness in the first place, in a world they have historically not been safe in? why do women get told to watch their delivery even when the delivery isn’t actually the problem? sometimes “it’s how you said it” means i don’t like that you said it at all.

this is where shit gets complicated for me, because “watch how you say it” is good advice until it becomes another way of telling a woman to make herself easier to digest. there have been times when my delivery was the problem. there have also been times when there was no acceptable delivery because what people actually wanted from me was silence.

those are not the same thing.

i can take accountability for mishandling the blade without agreeing to surrender it.

maybe that’s why the queen of swords keeps coming to mind. people reduce her to coldness because they mistake discernment for cruelty. but a sword separates. it divides one thing from another. truth from bullshit. instinct from impulse. what deserves engagement from what deserves to die unanswered.

that’s what “loaded” means to me. not constantly firing. not spraying bullets into every room because somebody irritated me. loaded means possessing the capacity. knowing what i am capable of saying, doing, creating, destroying, exposing, refusing, leaving, and still deciding when something is worth the ammunition. and having the freedom to do it. i’m a straight shooter, really.

admittedly, getting older has complicated my relationship with “the truth.” though. i still believe truth is truth. what i no longer believe is that accuracy automatically makes expression righteous. sometimes i’m speaking because something needs to be said. sometimes i’m speaking because i want somebody to bleed. intelligence is being honest enough with myself to know the difference.

i’m honestly just coming to terms with why i called this the bullet chamber before i completely understood what i was naming. this is where i keep the ammunition. some thoughts will leave here at full velocity. some will sit. some will probably never need to be fired at all.

either way it goes, i’m loaded. i’m a woman who absolutely became a gun to protect the girl within who couldn’t protect or speak for herself and all of the other girls like her.